Bearer Of News
by allofthatjazz
Summary: The part of his job he hates the most is when he has to be the bearer of news.


_I have seen this done a few times, I wanted to try my hand at it. I do not think it is my best work...but let me know what you think._

 _..._

People do not react well to having a police officer show up at their door step, because police officers are associated with crimes. Times you're the one in trouble. Always. Which is why I'm not bothered when I see Darrel Curtis flinch when he opens the door. If only he knew.

"Darrel Curtis?" I say woodenly. The words roll off my tongue like steel - disgusting, recited words. They are the words I'm told to ask everyone that I meet because you can never be sure who is who anymore.

"Yes sir" says the boy. I can tell that he plays football from his strong build and the way he towers a few inches over my own head. Somewhere in the back of the house _The Rolling Stones_ plays. The TV flashes. I'd been told that there were three kids living here, three brothers. But by the looks of the house I think maybe a party of ten had moved in. And the voices I could hear belong to more than three people, most definitely. Unless one of them happened to have perfected voice impressions.

They are not making my job any easier. This only makes it all worse.

"Officer?" Darrel says anxiously. I return from zoning out.

"Your brothers wouldn't happen to be home."

"In the bedroom."

If possible, Darrel goes a few shades paler when I ask this. The knot in my stomach tightens, and I'm ready to book it back through the door and drive away. I am a coward. But these sorts of jobs are always the hardest. The brothers will always hate me. They won't know my life. When they tell their story, I will always be nothing but the bearer of news. This horrible news.

Looking around, I see picture frames. Oh, the frames are always there. Every single time. Every single job. Some are mounted on the wall and others are on tables, but they all show the family. Yes, this is what makes my job hard. The frames. The memories.

Memories that are nothing but memories anymore. That will never be unearthed but instead pushed back. Maybe they will become nothing.

I don't even realize that Darrel has called for his two brothers. _The Rolling Stones_ has stopped playing. The house is now quiet except for the football game on TV. Two boys saunter into the living room, followed by four others who stand back respectfully. I don't know who they are. But they all freeze when they see a police officer at the door. I try my best to look friendly, but to them I am not. I am only the bearer of news. The boys look to their older brother expectantly, as though he has the answer. But Darrel only shrugs, looking just as worried as they are. His football player facade is diminished...no one can stay brave all the time.

The words slip out of my mouth all too easily. "None of you are...in trouble. There was an accident involving a Darrel and Laura Curtis. A highway crash, spun off the road.."

I wince at the harshness in which I talk. _I am only the bearer of news,_ I think miserably. There's nothing I can do from here. I am only here to tell them about the incident then I leave them, all alone to fend for themselves. What are three teenagers supposed to do without parents? The state will have them separated and put into boy's homes, for sure. But what can I do about it? I won't even know when it happens. Or _what_ happens. Part of my job is steeling myself against this, bearing the news and leaving them behind, but that it the part of my job that I fail the most at.

The middle child pales. I remember the names that the deputy had told me - _Darrel, Sodapop, and Ponyboy._ I can tell by first glance that this one is Soda. "Can we see them?" he asks me brokenly. I frown.

Here it comes; the part I dread. My own son floats into my head. I feel a wash of relief knowing he is safe at home with his mother. My wife. Nothing would get to him there, in her safety. I turn back on the brothers. They are alone now, exposed to the world and everything in it.

"You don't seem to understand. There were no survivors" I mutter furtively. I feel like a monster.

But I am not a monster. I am only the bearer of news.

And to the Curtis family, that's all I ever will be.

…

 _Hopefully I did this justice. Please leave feedback!_


End file.
